Reviewed by Nikolas Mavreas

An out-of-the-box murder mystery with some seriously intriguing twists

The Last Case is an unconventional but wholly satisfying specimen of the murder mystery form. Set in a coastal town in New England during the early 1980s, this novel opens with a body: a man in a Dungeons and Dragons costume found beheaded on the beach. This brings the lighthouse-dwelling detective Joseph Tey out of his isolation and back into the game. As he works at solving the case, Tey also works on himself, battling identity issues and a sense of mental deterioration.

Our protagonist’s inner conflict, his doubts about his past and his capabilities, are a constant presence in the book. This is accomplished with an ingeniously selected alternative to inner monologue: interjections of passages from Joseph Tey’s journal. In addition to fresh approaches to the genre, the plot is sprinkled with familiar mystery tropes as well, like annoying police colleagues, Cold War rhetoric, and a large corporation of unclear morality.

Every single character in this book, however minor, feels alive and breathing. Manners of speech, contents of speech, and little actions meticulously described all work toward the painting of people who feel vibrantly real, accentuated with sparse brushstrokes of the caricatural.

The attention to detail and resulting characterization is in every nook and cranny of this book, and it defines every aspect of the writing. Through particular, descriptive, and expressive detail, this novel is both fully excavated and polished like a jewel.

“The journal may tell him, if he dared read it. Something made him reluctant. Something made those memories unpleasant. He’d written them down as though putting them on paper removed them from his mind, making room for other things. His curiosity pulled and his apprehension pushed, so the diary remained on the coffee table.”

The novel rises to real thrills but also plunges to profound psychological depths. At its center, it is concerned with why people do what they do, the senselessness of bad actions, and redemption. It’s a thought-provoking thriller—and a strong one at that.

Some readers will notice that the protagonist’s name is taken from the pen name of an older mystery author. The reference doesn’t seem to carry more meaning than just being a simple homage to Josephine Tey, and it has no connection to another popular book series which has a fictional Josephine Tey. Delauder may have gone tongue-in-cheek with titling this novel, The Last Case: A Joseph Tey Mystery, but he also could be leveraging for a sequel or prequel to follow. DeLauder admits in the back matter of the book that this is his first foray into the murder mystery genre, but he writes with enough skill and expertise to make it feel like he couldn’t have done a better job. Until next time, I hope.

Thank you for reading Nikolas Mavreas’s book review of The Last Case by Sean DeLauder! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Toni Woodruff

A warmhearted picture book about healing through grief together

How do you explain loss to a child? Especially big loss. The biggest. Little Bear and the Big Hole has lost his Papa Bear, and there’s a hole where Papa used to stand. A real, literal hole. He sits at the edge of the hole and cries, looking into it and hating it day after day.

Nobody seems to see it other than him either, until Squirrel comes along. She walks carefully past it, sits down beside him, and glares into it. It turns out—she’s seen it before too, back when her sister died. Little Bear and the Big Hole by Jennifer Seal is the story of how Squirrel shows up for Little Bear, how Little Bear learns to accept the hole and pour love into it in order for life—new life—to emerge.

Children experience deep, complicated sadness even when we don’t think they’re ready for it. Life comes at everyone, unfortunately, and the possibility of death will greet them in stories, movies, and life early on. So how can we show them that there is hope and love beyond this sadness and grief?

If you’re going to read a book to your child about grief, make it this one. This is a powerful story with bighearted characters and concepts that demonstrate how grief isn’t the end of the road. It does hit you with the death of Papa Bear right away, so be ready to tackle it on page one.

The whole concept of the big hole is done to perfection. There’s something missing inside, and it’s almost impossible to avoid it. And yet, we look the same on the outside; no one can even tell you’re dealing with something so big.

But at least we have each other. This book is an important reminder that, even when it feels like we’re alone, we can still lean on other people. Squirrel is a terrifically loving character who doesn’t ask anything of Little Bear. She just sits with him, plays with him, talks with him, and tells him that what he’s doing is okay. She doesn’t say it’s going to get better. She lets time heal the big hole.

They create art and write letters and sing songs to the hole, filling it with the love\nthat’s missing now that Papa Bear is gone. There are real lessons to be learned in this moving story. Death and grief are big topics that will have to be broached at some point. If you or your little one feel ready, it’s important to read the right books and stories about it. Like this one.

The illustrations are colorful, creative, and clean, and they provide context to a story that depends on a metaphor to understand it on the deepest level. Jennifer Seal and illustrator Mirjam Siim have conjured up a special kind of magic with Little Bear and the Big Hole.

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Reviewed by Gabriella Harrison

In which an irresistible adventure to an exoplanet transforms into a moving story about the complexity of sisterhood

Lissy and her crew just finished a horrendous mission. Their reputation within the space-salvaging industry is wrecked. So when she and her boyfriend find something with the potential to cleanse their reputation and wipe all their financial woes away, they’re quick to take it. But it’s going to take her sister, an anthropology professor at a prestigious university, to make it happen.

Despite the disaster of their last mission, the crew is eager to get started. Lissy’s sister, Therese, is insistent on following due process. That would help them all in the end since she needs to publish about the discovery, but it doesn’t win her any friends within the crew, especially since she is new and an introvert perceived as a snob.

Once they finally begin, it is immediately obvious that something is very wrong. The religious colony that inhabited the exoplanet before their arrival believed to have left fifty years ago for unknown reasons. The strange thing is that they left all their personal possessions behind. There is no evidence of a massacre. They’re just gone.

Things become even stranger when the rest of the crew finally see what they dub “The Anomaly.” A glowing artifact with an indecipherable origin that captivates everyone who looks at it. While everyone is still figuring out what to do, one of the crew members becomes sick, and things really start to go downhill from there.

The Glass Garden is a mystery-driven science fiction that unfolds over three days. On the first day, the crew arrives on the exoplanet, and The Anomaly is studied. The rest of the crew is introduced through Therese’s keen eyes: handsome Carver, whose main purpose in the crew seems to be to sweet-talk people and maintain peace; Tsieh, a sharp-eyed skeptic and brainiac; and McArdle, the hard-to-please pilot and mechanical whiz of the crew.

On the second day, they split into two teams; one conducting a proper in-depth study of The Anomaly and the other exploring the site where the previous colony stayed and trying to salvage anything of value. By the third day, they’re barely hanging on.

From the beginning, Therese is withdrawn, sitting at a corner of the ship’s galley, sipping coffee and observing her new crew members while remembering times when she has felt left out: “…she had flashes of the first day of sophomore year, sitting in the cafeteria of a new high school knowing absolutely nobody, hoping someone would sit with her, terrified that they would.”

With Therese, author Jessica Lévai aptly captures how easy it is to misunderstand an introvert who doesn’t know how to join a conversation with strangers. Balancing out Therese’s perspective is the equally nerdy Tsieh, who observes her reclusiveness as creepy: “She was probably listening, but not contributing, which was spooky as hell.”

Then Lissy enters, “splashing into the pond with all the subtlety of a rock thrown by a kindergartner.” Lissy is her younger, more vibrant, and daring sister. As the story progresses, the sibling rivalry and her resentment toward Therese for their mom’s preferential treatment toward her and repeated disregard of the career of a space salvager are evident. During one of their arguments, she remarks, “You never stand up for me when Mom tells me to get a real job or go back to school. It’s obvious you think I’m beneath you.” Amid the chaos of their mission, interactions such as this ground them in their humanity—a quiet reminder that beneath all the tension, they’re still just people. Unfortunately, Lissy’s sentiments rub off on the rest of the crew, and Therese must prove herself to belong.

The alien cave system of the exoplanet is brought to life through tactile, sensory detail, especially when the characters peel off their masks and interact physically with The Anomaly. These artistic details create an immersive and emotionally evocative atmosphere that is both magical and menacing, evoking awe and dread in equal measure. For instance:

“One wall of the cavern was lit as if from behind, and upon it were…images. Like a stained glass window in an abandoned cathedral…the images impressed on it reminded her of Tiffany lamps at the art museum, but more free, more alive. These were the flowers that watched martyrs put to death and grew exuberantly, mockingly, from their remains.”

Despite its emotional resonance, The Glass Garden leaves a few questions unresolved. While the ambiguity surrounding the sick crewmate is intentional, it doesn’t exactly provide closure, and readers may find this frustrating. The lack of psychological buildup, such as Therese and Lissy’s final decision concerning The Anomaly, can make some character decisions feel sudden, but in the novella form, these are likely to save space and allow for the reader to ponder the truth in the silence.

Jessica Lévai’s The Glass Garden is a surreal and thrilling science fiction novella that prompts you to wonder what truly exists beyond Earth, and it succeeds greatly in balancing introspection and action. Therese’s archaeological mindset provides a steady rhythm of analysis and reflection, while the unfolding mystery of The Anomaly keeps the tension alive.

Thank you for reading Gabriella Harrison’s book review of The Glass Garden: A Novella by Jessica Lévai! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Jaylynn Korrell

A charming story about sisterhood, friendship, and two very determined dogs

Even the bravest of dogs can be scared sometimes. Just ask Sydney, a Labrador Retriever who, despite the comfort of her home and her loving human family, struggles with being left alone—especially during storms and bad weather. 

To remedy this situation, her family adopts a new puppy sister to keep Sydney company. But things go awry after her arrival, and it forces Sydney to be the bravest she’s ever been. 

In Sydney, Bean, and the Missing Gloves, Janice E. Collins delves into fear, sisterhood, and the power of friendship—a touching little story that dog-loving children are going to adore.

It feels like there are never children’s books about female dogs! Boys, boys, boys—I’m tired of it! This one isn’t just about one girl dog though—it’s about two!

A sisterhood story for my dog-loving daughters—an excellent match.

Sydney is a strong and independent dog, but she craves stable connection. Bean turns out to be just the dog for her; they balance each other exceptionally well. Bean is young and rambunctious, eager to form a sisterhood. I could have easily read a story that was just them getting to know each other in the backyard, but Collins ups the ante when their human loses an heirloom and suspects the dogs may have nabbed it. 

If I didn’t love Bean already, I fell in love with her even more after seeing how eager she is to find the missing glove. She genuinely wants to make others happy, especially her new family. Her innocence, however, makes her place her trust in an untrustworthy character’s hands and leads her on an adventure she isn’t equipped to succeed in. 

Collins uses this situation to showcase the power of friendship and the strength that comes when you team up with others and work toward a common goal. There are multiple lessons to be learned from this story, but my favorite is about being there for the people (or dogs) around you. Bean and Sydney embody this idea many times, but so do their friends.

Sydney is written with such compassion and apparent love. So many dog owners are all-too familiar with their dog’s fear of intense weather and loud noises. This story will be helpful to kids who have pets with similar issues, as it shows that dogs have feelings similar to those of humans and they deserve to be comforted. 

These heartwarming messages are paired with delightful images of Sydney, Bean, and their friends from around the neighborhood. Their expressive faces really bring the story to life and show how much they care for each other and their family. 

Sydney, Bean, and the Missing Gloves will be a favorite for dog-loving children. 

Thank you for reading Jaylynn Korrell’s book review of Sydney, Bean and the Missing Gloves by Janice E. Collins! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Haley Perry | Content warnings: Postpartum depression, child abuse

A twisty psychological thriller exploring the dark depths of new motherhood

Jill Amber Chafin delivers an evocative thriller about a mother’s frustration and guilt taken to the extreme in Shaken. 

One day, driven to the brink of exhaustion by yet another one of baby Morgan’s screaming fits, young mother Sally shakes her baby. Consumed by guilt and needing to get away from her crime, she calls the babysitter and heads into an emergency shift at work. 

However, over the next few days, Morgan’s condition gets worse, and Sally finds herself lying at every turn about symptoms, doctor’s visits, and the incident itself. But as the lies catch up to her, she begins to worry her partner and the detectives suspect her, and she develops a scheme to save herself and Morgan: blame the babysitter.

Teenage Alyssa is a star student, future doctor, and babysitter extraordinaire. She has her life planned out, but it’s all threatened when false child abuse accusations are leveled at her. In order to prove her innocence and protect Morgan from future harm, she must work against the detectives to find out what really happened.

Chafin’s characters are rich and full of depth. The characters are not always likable but they are understandable, which is a strong choice that helps the reader conceptualize why these bad things happen. The book primarily alternates point-of-view between Sally, Alyssa, Sally’s partner, and Alyssa’s mother. Each character functions as foils for the others, which opens up fascinating ways of viewing the characters. For instance, while Sally and Alyssa share their youth and desire for a career in medicine, they go about it in different ways because of Sally’s unexpected motherhood and Alyssa’s lack thereof. 

While this book is full of dramatic irony, Chafin deftly passes along just enough information to make the reader think they clearly know the answer when there are frequent twists lurking around every corner. Since the culprit is revealed on page one, the suspense comes from wondering whether or not the characters will correctly find the guilty party and how.  

Moreover, the guilt and panic induced by this situation creates a strong psychological portrait of the dark side of motherhood, such as the deep depression and isolation as well as the fear that one is not a good mother and everyone will know it.

The subject matter of the book is heavy, but the language keeps it light enough to breeze through—a quick read that comes with that addictive, whirlwind feeling that is so central to thrillers. Additionally, moments of humor bring levity to a situation that could easily drench the book in sadness.

Shaken deftly grapples with what it means to be a parent by looking at parenthood through a variety of lenses. By focusing on the darker emotions stemming from parenthood, Chafin does the important work of showing mothers that they are not alone or “bad mothers” for feeling overwhelmed and frustrated by their responsibility.

Thank you for reading Haley Perry’s book review of Shaken by Jill Amber Chafin! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Jaylynn Korrell

A story filled with magical beings, lush greenery, and evil creatures with destruction on their mind

Carolyn has lived in a beautiful valley for nearly a century and a half. After the death of her mother in the 1800s, she vowed to stay in the land that raised her and with the fairies that taught her how to wield masterful magic. Then, in present day, a young woman named Anita comes knocking at her door.

Anita feels called to roam the valley, and when she stumbles upon Carolyn’s home, she feels a strong, unknown connection. It turns out those fairies she thought she saw in her childhood weren’t as make believe as her adoptive parents persuaded her them to be. Everything is soon revealed to Anita, including her magical ancestry. With the help of Carolyn and the fairies in the valley, Anita learns to trust her intuition and further develop her own magical gifts.

After an old friend gives her magical seeds that can harness a life-saving plant for the fairies, evil forces arise, plotting to destroy the plant and anyone who gets in their way. With helpful friends from near and far, the valley comes to life in an epic battle of good versus evil. 

Lucky for me, I am in my fairy era. Dancing Valley provides readers with every aspect that fantasy readers love. The magical creatures really bring this book to life, especially when combined with Karen Black’s lush nature writing. Black sets her main characters in the most ideal setting, nestled into a small home in the middle of secluded forest with an impressive garden. The descriptions of this natural scenery makes it easy to get comfy in.

Anita’s storyline has a magnetic pull to it. As the mystery of her past is slowly revealed, she transforms from unsure of herself to a content and capable person. After the loss of her adoptive parents and her own professional success, Anita still feels a bit lost in the world. It’s this feeling that leads her to Dancing Valley and the start of her new life. Black does a wonderful job building Anita up after years of being told to ignore her intuition. So much of that is thanks to her newfound friendship with Carolyn. Their friendship is a true highlight in this book. Carolyn ends up playing a sort of motherly role, and they both fulfill an empty part in the other’s life.

I could have read the story of Anita and Carolyn in the woods forever, but things don’t stay peaceful for very long. There’s danger afoot in the form of Bargrim and his army of goblins, and while I wanted things to stay peaceful (surprised much?), I also like the rising stakes. The incoming danger gives the characters a powerful purpose. The plants that Anita is growing could make such a big impact, and everyone feels a calling to ensure their survival.

Dancing Valley has something in it for everyone: magic, friendship, romance, evil goblins. Someone pinch me when the next book comes out!

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Reviewed by Nikolas Mavreas

A hopeful, moving novel based on a true event

Rebecca Wolf’s Alive and Beating is a novel inspired by an historic event, tangentially related to the author herself. In 1995, a suicide bomber attacked the bus her childhood friend Alisa was on during a trip in Israel, and Alisa’s organ donation caused a shift in Jewish reservations about the practice, leading thousands to become organ donors. Through separate but interconnected fictional portraits, Wolf presents a vivid collage of life and family dynamics in Jerusalem at the time, imagining the circumstances of the beneficiaries of Alisa’s donations before their operation.

Very much a character-driven work, it’s important to discuss the people who make this story pulse. Leah Weiss is 21 years old with kidney disease and in need of hemodialysis. She lives with her large family in the ultra-orthodox Jewish community of Ramat Eshkol, where it is taboo to be seen as sick, so her mother forces her to go all the way to Tel Aviv for her incognito treatment. The young woman is conflicted about wanting to leave her conservative community.

In contrast, Yael Glassman, the single mother of a little girl, lives in a secular neighborhood, receiving help from her supportive parents who are Holocaust survivors. She has cystic fibrosis, and her body has rejected her previous lung transplant. Self-pity, regrets, and resentment weigh on her.

Hoda Ibrahim is a Palestinian in East Jerusalem, the sole moneymaker of her family, working at a beauty salon next to the city’s border wall. Though her parents are traditional Muslims, her mother would bring Vogue magazine for her to go through when she was little. Hoda has been on the transplant waiting list for 8 months, her body breaking down due to polycystic kidney disease.

After the three women, the book moves to three men. David Sassoon is the son of Jewish immigrants from Iraq who moved to Israel after the Holocaust. He has been suffering from chronic liver disease for 12 years. Though his wife is supportive, David’s condition has corroded their relationship.

Father Severin McConnell is an Irishman in the Fransiscan Order, sent to Jerusalem as a watcher of the holy Christian sites. More importantly, he has been using his time entertaining the sick at the hospital. His diabetes has put him in need of a new pancreas. Alive and Beating is a book of disparate stories, of wide-ranging truths, of disease and health.

Lastly, we see Youssef and Yosef, two hospital roommates who suffer from severe heart conditions. The two boys have formed a strong friendship, and their having the same name, one in its Muslim and one in its Jewish form, is no symbolic accident. Their discussion is tinged with teenage life and tragedy, moving from liking boobs to who is deserving of the next available heart.

Alive and Beating adroitlygrapples with the role of faith and doubt in the face of disease. Poignant and effective, it deals with the discord between traditional communities and the acceptance of chronic illness.  

Perhaps most powerfully, the novel depicts the impact of disease on families and individuals with affecting realism. And yet hope abounds in this heartfelt book. It’s a nuanced discussion worthy of thoughtful attention.

Thank you for reading Nikolas Mavreas’s book review of Alive and Beating by Rebecca Wolf! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by John M. Murray

A moving tale about seeking acceptance and self in a late 20th century rural town

A trauma-stricken young woman turns to religion, and her young son becomes a cowboy to find his true self in The Gift. The two of them may clash, but it results in an unforgettable tale of faith, sexuality, and how different people struggle to find acceptance.

Pansy did not lead an easy life. After her mother was murdered by her father, the police sent her to an unknown uncle. She mistakes lust for love and tries to force a young man, Ace, into marriage only to have him steal half her money and vanish. 

Alone, lost, and pregnant, she turns to the only people willing to take her: the Jehovah’s Witnesses. She’s given a run-down shack to raise her son and does her best, but she falls too deep into the extreme tenets of her religion. Her son William grows up under the kind care of his neighbor who teaches him the rugged ways of cowboy culture. William soon realizes he’s gay, but the rural community teaches him to keep that side secret.

This book is simultaneously heart-wrenching and heartwarming, especially William’s story. The rancher, Steve, embodies a healthy model of masculinity, and he teaches William not just about cowboy work but life. The unusual father-son dynamic provides a satisfying relationship of one man trying to help the next generation without forcing William into something he’s not. William tries to be his true self but grapples with society’s disdain toward him. He’s not perfect, he makes mistakes, both in romance and life, but at least he is trying.

Much of the book is about Pansy—her childhood, the early days of her life as a single mother—which is unfortunate. Since Pansy is taught the world is just about to end, she is sometimes acts a hateful woman who uses religion as an excuse for her life not going well. She was a good mother while William was a child, but as he becomes independent, she grows distant. The lengthy focus on Pansy’s life feels like it sidetracks the story of how William grew up and how those experiences shaped him.

Still, The Gift is a fascinating snapshot of two people as they try to find acceptance. Both people, limited by the social mores of the time, discover the painful limits of staying true to themselves. While the story is focused on the religious and sexuality aspects, the spotlight is on the very human need to belong.

Thank you for reading John M. Murray’s book review of The Gift by Scott Terry! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Alexandria Ducksworth

In which Jennifer Moore reminds us the Universe has our backs

The latest Jennifer Moore book couldn’t have come at a better time. Empathic Evolution elevates the spirit and guides people on how they can thrive in a chaotic world. Readers who enjoyed book one, Empathic Mastery, are in for a treat to upgrade their spiritual life with this one. 

New readers are introduced to the Council of We, the spirit group channeling through Moore. They teach readers how to overcome fear and maintain peace no matter the circumstances. Anybody who has read Jane Roberts’ The Seth Material may be familiar with this form of channeled work.

Empathic Evolution provides plenty of meditation and affirmation exercises throughout the book. There are seven chapters noticeably dedicated to the needs of the seven chakras (spiritual wheels): Root, Vessel (Sacral), The Will (Solar Plexus), The Heart, Voice (Throat), Mind (Third Eye), and Bloom (Crown). According to the Council of We, if we nourish these spiritual pinpoints, we will become better souls. Fear’s illusionary power and the true meaning of being rich are just two of the topics explored with great clarity and intelligence in this book.

Fear holds us back from so many things. Fear can make us small and powerless. Fortunately, Moore has emphasized an evasive truth: Fear is nothing but an illusion. Initially, fear can look like a frightening lion, but from a higher perspective, once you’ve overcome fear, it becomes nothing more than a spicy kitten. 

This book reminds readers how powerful we are and the Universe will be there to provide when we feel our most vulnerable and scared. The book’s “Root” chapter reads like a comforting hand on one’s shoulder. To fulfill the “root” of our being, we need safety. Not just a physical place to feel safe, but deep down knowing everything will be ok.

True wealth is discussed further along in Empathic Evolution.We’re used to the idea that being rich is all about fast cars, big houses, and Birkin bags. The Council of We’s meaning of rich is being spiritually infinite. One can’t have physical riches without spiritual riches. Plus, it also means infinite generosity. That is not to say you must give all of your physical possessions but more that you must take care of your own needs first and then take care of others. I love how the book mentions this part out loud. How can you share wealth if you don’t grow your own garden of wealth first?

Empathic Evolution is an absolute keeper. Those who read uplifting new-age nonfiction will love this book. In some moments, I felt lifted in ways I’ve never even considered before. My limiting beliefs clashed with certain things that no longer served me. If you’re looking for a mind-opening book to enrich your soul, Empathic Evolution is it.

Thank you for reading Alexandria Ducksworth’s book review of Empathic Evolution by Alfredo Botello! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Peter Hassebroek

A rural college town is shaken to the core in this thriller of brutal crimes and human complexity.

Widower Don Weston, a Civil War buff and ex-cop from Philadelphia, has found a contented transition to retirement as police chief at Churchville University. The low risk demands of the job—background checks for new hires, campus hi-jinks, discrimination, etc.—enable Don to indulge in his much-desired historical activities, like reenactments.

His employer, meanwhile, is suffering from a stretch of mismanagement and bureaucratic infighting, and drastic change is required. Don plays his part vetting an incoming president, Harold Olson, and a provost Isabel Helms. They pass, notwithstanding a hint of scandal for Harold and a curious detail indicating an extracurricular relationship between the two candidates that includes Harold’s wife Elly.

Once the new regime establishes itself at the school and in the community, cuts and demotions commence, creating a substantial suspect pool when the violence begins. First, the provost goes missing, and then the president is murdered in intricately grisly fashion. Weston teams with state police and other law enforcement agencies once there is no doubt these events are connected, to each other and to a subsequent apparent suicide.

The who and why is at the core of this mystery, but the reader has an advantage regarding the how. Each victim’s ordeal is shared from their perspective in graphic detail, then taken up by their assailant after their POVs functionally expire:

“A surprising amount of blood still pumped from her body. Her wrists were opened next, producing a fountain of arterial spurting, marking each heartbeat, the big pool and the kitty litter consuming all. The neck was the last cut, an OJ/Nicole beauty that would be the precursor to removing the head.”

The dramatic contrast between such scenes and the more deliberate police procedural one is sharp. The pace of the investigation seems calm, even unrushed, in comparison to the frantic intensity of the violent acts. This parallels the gulf between the wholesome university town image and the barbarity occurring within. The constant is the uncertainty of what might come next. This book is going to keep you guessing.

Don’s feeling restless about his career. He’s tempted to consider a return to more active police pursuits before he fully retires. He’s in his element interacting with locals, especially when teaming up with new and former professional colleagues. This is likely to set up his character in Blame it on the Moon, for which this is a prequel.

The novel is mostly chronological, and the omniscient voice dips into the points-of-view of many characters. And it handles them well. The leisurely prose is augmented by jarring scenes, evoking the disparity between what’s seen and what lurks underneath. The story flows seamlessly and engages from start to finish.

As the tangible truths unfold, the motivations remain murky. The acts are clearly evil, but not necessarily the perpetrators who have their own stories. This human factor instills a subtle complexity that elevates Final Exam above the others—an exemplary procedural crime story.

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